I Immerse Myself in Sick Reflection
As the last rays of sunlight fade, one killer chases another through the tangled madness of the city. A flash of steel announces the presence of his quarry. The stage is set the night explodes. The two clash daggers and exchange blows, heading off neck and neck. One madly screams "Annabel!" with every clash of their daggers. I am not sure who this 'Annabel' is, but the other man's exuberant smile tells me the deep importance of this person. I am horrified by the intensity of this battle. They are fighting to the death, not thinking at all about the others life. Then suddenly, they both stop. Like something from one of my plays, they stare at each other intensely. The poetry screams into my mind. Just as suddenly, the mad man infatuated with Annabel falls to the ground. His side explodes into blood as though a continuously twisting blade has punctured his heart. I turn to run, but the presence of so much blood has petrified my. Using my peripherals, I see the other man turn toward me. Then I hear the words that will forever haunt me. "I handed you a knife and my heart, and now the dream is over." With that, the Artists last words leave his lips as the life leaves his eyes.
As I look back onto these terrible events, I realize I have no clue why I called him the 'Artist'. It is as though I subconsciously knew all the events about to transpire. I tried to turn before the other man decides what to do with me, but behind me is a mirror I do not remember being there before. In the mirror, behind me, I see the man come into the light. His looks… They are mine! He is I, I am he. I do not know how this is possible, but I did not have much time to find out. The last thing I saw before the darkness engulfed me into a decaying and lifeless state is I, reaching around to cut my neck open.
Oh how my poetry mocks me. I can hear the words now, "How does the dagger feel now when you're on the receiving end?" I deserve this cold death. I killed the innocent Artist…
After an eternity in darkness, feeling my flesh decay and my bones brittle, I awaken. I am home, in my bed. Could this all have been a dream? I turn, and my sweet Rosaline is staring lovingly into my eyes. "Hello, my love" she whispers,"Hello, my darling Rosaline. How the candle light against your soft, glowing skin refills my heart and renews my soul. You know not what I have endured in this wretched sleep which you have kindly pulled me from."
Confusion engulfs her gorgeous face.
"Sweetheart, who is Rosaline? Have thou forgotten me in said wretched sleep? I am Annabel, and you are my Artist. I am thy muse; you spoke these words to me just before you passed into sleep from the exhaustion that overcomes you after working hard on your sketches."
"Rosaline? What are you saying? You are Annabel? How do you know that name? Moreover, you think that I am the artist. How do you even know of him? You lie! Where is my Rosaline! Where is my love? Rose!"
"Darling, what is wrong? What hath happened in your sleep to make thou distraught?"
With these words, anger engulfs me. Not knowing how it got there, I lung forward with the dagger that ended my life an eternity ago and scream, "Daggers speak louder than words, imposter!" The next thing I know I am staring at Annabel, with a dagger plunged into her heart. I fled from the house, leaving the dagger in its new permanent sheath, and out into the forest. I have lived here for so long, but never before have had I noticed how godly the land around me is. I much escape from Eden's walls. I must find my Rosaline. The path I took through the forest leads me to a small town. I enter the town and begin my search, calling out to her, asking the strangers if they had seen her. Finally, I come across a mysterious woman. Her face, or what I can see of it under her hood, looks angelic. If only my heart were not already woven to Rosaline's.
My love, we soon will meet again.